Only A Street Corner Away
by rocknrollneverforgets
Summary: Modern AU. On the rain soaked streets of London, Margaery Tyrell has encountered many a stranger, who vanish from her mind almost instantly afterwards. But strangers don't have to remain strangers, especially strangers with easy grins and expensive shoes. A tale of romance in the city, cigarette smoke and a shared love of Margherita pizza.
1. Strangers In The Night

Margaery Tyrell could feel the rain on her skin as she hurried through the alley, cursing herself for being out so late. It was only becoming more torrential, the drops like needles. Her hair was gradually falling, as the water seeped through it, making it heavy against her head.

It was two in the morning, but by no means were the streets of London silent. The echoes of drunken shouts carried a long way, longer than perhaps anyone would have liked. The roar of engines was deafening, an unexpected disturbance in the miserable night for the defeated parties that only sought to venture home.

And the smells. The city was no place for someone with a delicate nose. Cigarette smoke drifted through the polluted air, and whether you smoked or not, it didn't make much difference. Drains belched and bubbled, and some citizens were desperately gassing themselves on aerosol, wishing they'd spent that little bit extra on their dwelling, or its location.

But it was Margaery's home, and despite its drawbacks, she never forgot the appeal London had held for her at the time of moving. Straight out of university in York, where everything was of historical importance, to the capital, where strangers on the street where just as likely to be muggers as they were to be office employed.

Of course, London boasted its own historical monuments; it wasn't the capital city for nothing. Margaery had seen them all, from the Tower of London to Nelson's Column. She'd come here often with her family as a teenager, but had spent most of it grumbling, asking when they could visit the shops.

Now, as she swore loudly after stepping into a puddle, she thought of herself as much more cultured. She'd studied history after all. _Fat lot of good that did, _she thought. She'd spent the entire three years at York wishing she'd just done English. The English students didn't have to learn parts of another language, which Margaery knew she was less than likely to ever use again. She'd never even wanted a career as a historian.

She thought about lighting up, the cigarettes halfway out of her pocket before she decided she'd rather get home quickly. Instead, she pulled her coat tighter around herself, and concentrated on not ruining her new boots any more than she already had. They had stupid heels on them, she knew that now. But they'd looked excellent with her skirt, and she'd had no trouble attracting attention all night. _Did you want their attention though?_

"Hey sweetheart, fancy a shag?" Margaery was used to the drunken yells endured at this time of night, and ignored the party on the other side of the road. She could answer her own question. She didn't want the attention of the lecherous men she'd met tonight, just like the ones across the street.

As she hurried on, she considered stopping to purchase an umbrella. But sadly, she didn't encounter a shop with open doors, and she probably couldn't get any more soaked. She could only glance forlornly at the dark, empty establishments lining the pavement. They looked so foreboding at this time of night, with metal shutters over the windows, and heavy padlocks on the doors. It almost looked as if they were trying to keep something in.

She passed under an archway, now shivering. It only spurred her to move faster. Her flat would be warm and dry, and Loras would have left her some pizza. There were definitely some benefits to living with her brother, even if she was politely hinted at to leave whenever Renly came around. It was Loras' flat, after all. She was only rooming, until she could get her own place.

But it was so hard in London. Even the smallest, dirtiest flat was well above her price range. Especially on the money she received from her job at the call centre. A job she'd sworn she'd never do. She'd always hated the infuriatingly pushy callers, who rang the house to try and force offers practically no one wanted, and now she was one. It was almost amusing really.

She was alone on the street, apart from a figure ahead. A man, she could see, smoking, by the looks of it. As she drew closer, she could see he was absolutely soaked as well, and envied his defiance in standing vigilantly out in the open.

His head sprung up as she was about to pass him, a grin on his face.

"Apparently I'm not the only one idiotic enough to venture out without an umbrella, or at least, a hood." He remarked. His voice was deep, his tone light, his accent somewhat Northern, and Margaery felt the pressure to at least acknowledge his statement. He hadn't needed to address her, and she'd been brought up to remember her manners, which included answering when spoken to, no matter how much you might want to hurry home for pizza.

She stopped and turned to face him, examining him more carefully. Shallowly, the first thing she noticed was how attractive he was. A hand swept the sopping wet curls out of his face, exposing icy blue eyes. His jaw was handsome, and lined with a rough, tangible stubble. It was impossible to tell what colour his hair might've been; it was too dark and wet.

Margaery also couldn't help but notice his attire. His coat, though useless in such weather, was clearly expensive, matching his shoes. There was a scarf wound around his neck beneath the coat, which might've looked less enticing on someone else, but his confidence in it pulled it off.

The way he held the cigarette, inhaling sharply but slowly, everything about him suggested a rich upbringing. She'd grown up around exactly the same sort of gestures, and could easily recognise another person of the middle class, who'd grown up in a large house, and had a Father who read the broadsheets.

"I wonder which of us is cursing that decision more." She responded, bitterly. That made him laugh, and he looked even better when he laughed, she observed, this stranger who smoked so well.

"Probably you." He replied, amused. He hadn't missed her once over, that she could see. He was probably used to it, and she hadn't missed him returning the favour. "I've accepted my fate, that's why I'm just stood here, smoking away my troubles." He grinned at her, a winsome grin, one she wished she'd seen on another night, when she wasn't so hungry for warmth and food.

"You don't solve problems by smoking silently in the rain." She told him. "Trust me; I've been trying for years." It was a joke, but she did wish it did solve problems. In that instance, she'd have her own flat and a decent job, one that didn't involve being sworn at all hours of the day.

The stranger seemed to wish it too, as he threw his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his shoe. "Aye." He acknowledged. "But it doesn't create more of them."

"That's arguable." She responded. "Do you consider lung cancer a problem?" He laughed louder then, and Margaery ogled him appreciatively, every curve of his lips, and his teeth, which actually looked brushed. A change from most of the men she'd met tonight.

"It might be a minor setback." He teased. "Though I'd always have my hi-tech meth laboratory to fall back on." A raindrop slid down his nose, and Margaery's gaze slid up his face, taking in the crinkles by his eyes, suggesting he smiled a lot, and his eyelashes, threaded with beads of water.

She didn't get the reference, but laughed anyway, having been in similar situations whenever she was dragged along to see Loras' friends. It was surprisingly simple to perfect the art of looking like you understood perfectly.

Admittedly, she wanted to stay and talk more to the attractive stranger, smoke together, and continue the easy chatter. But the rain was only falling faster, and she was a sucker for a good Margherita.

"I'm getting even more soaked than I first anticipated." She pronounced. "And I don't trust my brother to save my pizza. I better go." She made to turn and leave, but span back around, adding as an afterthought: "I hope you solve your problems." Her tone was laughing, and she didn't miss the wink he threw her as she turned away. She wondered if he'd caught the sincerity of her words.

As she trudged away, she could hear the sound of him exhaling. Another cigarette, and there would be another girl who passed by. He would charm her too, Margaery expected. He'd been a fleeting acquaintance on the street; she'd never see him again. That almost made her sad. It wasn't him particularly, but there were so many strangers in this city she'd never come to know, strangers that she could have had the world in common with.

Margaery wouldn't say she felt miserable as she traipsed through the streets, but the revelation of how very small her world was gave her thoughts a melancholy touch, only added to by the downpour cascading around her. She only took comfort in the fact that she would probably have forgotten all about her realisation tomorrow, as she complained loudly of her job over breakfast.

Indeed, when she finally reached the flat, her mind was only on the sound of the TV that was still on. She opened the door to the comforting sight of Loras in his boxers, asleep on the sofa. He was halfway through Paranormal Activity, but the screams of the fictional victims had not made him stir. _Loras can sleep through anything, _she thought, amused.

She was euphoric to detect the scent of lovingly melted cheese and tomato, and threw the remaining half of the pizza into the microwave with gusto. It satisfied her to watch as the numbers on the little screen ticked away, something that she'd always taken pleasure in since childhood. It was strangely fulfilling, watching the time fall away, though Loras called the habit obsessive.

Twice cooked pizza was never quite as enjoyable, but Margaery was still content as she stuffed the pieces into her mouth. She'd been wishing all night that she'd resisted Loras and Renly's attempts to get her out of the flat. This pizza tasted a hell of a lot better than every drink she'd sipped, every cigarette she'd smoked, every pair of lips she'd sampled.

It was with a full belly and a lazy grin that Margaery descended to her bed with, and no thoughts of the grinning stranger blowing smoke into the rain. She had a world of other things to think about that were more important to her, including the fact that it was Mother's Day on Sunday, and she still hadn't thought to buy a present.

With that pressing thought on her mind, she rolled over to sleep, listening to the habitual sounds of the London streets through the rain lashing upon her window. Sirens sung and drunkards shouted, wind howled and thunder grumbled. The sound of the city was a force of nature, clawing its way into everything. But for Margaery, it was only a source of comfort, the type that is only found in familiarity. The type of comfort found at home.


	2. I Didn't Expect To See You Here

Robb Stark landed on the platform with altogether too much force. Throwing himself desperately off the train in frenzy had seemed the best decision at the time he'd made it. He'd already been hilariously stupid to think he'd be absolutely fine taking the later train. Delayed or not, he was already twenty minutes late, and now he was going to have to sprint to the restaurant. He'd already begun to acquire a reputation among his family, one he was determined to dissipate, but he was really only making it worse.

Murmured apologies felt a little useless as he shoved his way through droves of people also vying for a ticket barrier. It hadn't helped his case that he'd managed to arrive right on rush hour. Everyone was leaving the city for their homes, whilst he was threading his way through them in the opposite direction.

Leeds Station had not altered in the slightest. Not that he'd expected it to have, he was here at least once a month it seemed, on a sudden whim from his parents. They always paid his train fare though, so he didn't complain, and his old room in their house was largely more peaceful than his room in London. At home, he spent his nights listening to some girl screaming loudly next door as Theon did what Theon did best, or the sound of his own ears drumming. That last one was only if he was too drunk to hear anything else though.

The smell of smoke was ever prevalent in their flat, along with far too much Lynx and a hell of a lot of beer. Neither of him or Theon had ever purchased an air freshener in their lives, and neither did either of them ever intend to. They liked the smell of smoke anyway, or it wouldn't smell of smoke in the flat in the first place. The Lynx was just an effort to appear like the presentable young men they'd been brought up as.

Speaking of smoke, he had planned on having a fag before sitting down for the meal. He was staying with his parents for the weekend, neither of whom approved of the 'disgusting' habit he'd picked up in university. He'd planned to try and impress them, without lighting up all weekend, but he knew he'd never do it now. _The stress of this bloody journey has dissolved my resolve, _he thought, amused.

Unsurprisingly, his ticket failed to work on first try. His memories of being a teenager and taking the train into and out of Leeds were majorly of disgruntled waiting as the barrier rejected the ticket repeatedly. Not much had changed since he'd been a teenager, it seemed, and it took him four ticket barriers to be successful.

With a quick look at his phone, Robb cursed loudly, and had to hurry away when he received an angry look from a parent nearby. _5:45. Fifteen minutes late, and you've still got to walk. _At least they weren't attending a posh place. Robb was hugely grateful for his parent's undying love for pizza, and it had been no surprise when Catelyn had requested Pizza Express for her Mother's Day meal.

They always celebrated like this: a meal on the Friday. As Catelyn claimed, it was hugely busy on actual Mother's Day, and none of them really wanted to stomach that any more than she did. It was a more relaxed celebration, and Robb usually enjoyed it well enough. His only disappointment was the fact that he wouldn't get to see his half-brother, Jon.

It had been easier when they lived together, and had seen each other every day. But Jon had gone to study medicine in Newcastle, whilst Robb had taken a spin down to Cardiff to meet the sheep, and well, get a business degree, sort of. If he were anyone else, he would've quit the useless qualification within the first term. But he was not. He was the oldest child, and he was determined to play the dutiful son in at least one aspect. So he'd finished his degree, and predictably, it had been almost no use for anything. By contrast, Jon was shining in medical school.

As soon as he was out of the station doors, Robb was moving faster, side stepping his way through the throngs. Like every city centre, it was busy and loud. Very loud. Always loud. The crowds almost created a claustrophobic tightness, to someone unexperienced anyway. But Robb had spent the last year of his life living in London, and he'd be a fool to shy away from crowds.

He'd learned to take the unpleasant tickle of greasy hair in his face, nor the sight of dandruff flakes floating to the ground right in front of his nose. The overbearing scent of over sprayed perfume as he ducked under a wrist, which may have otherwise slammed unknowingly into his forehead. He learned to drop the apologies, and take whichever gap he could prise himself into.

It had been a shock on his first visits to the big cities, of course. The Starks lived outside of the city, and he'd rarely come into the centre at prime time. Cardiff and London had been new experiences that he'd now conquered, only to train him for avoiding being even later to family dinners, or so it seemed.

Because it was March, and also Northern England, the sun had already begun to set, and street lamps had started to flicker on. They rose tall above the hustle, glowing through the greying sky. Most of them were broken though, just like they'd always been. They never got around to fixing anything in Leeds, and Robb had half expected the Christmas lights to still adorn the streets.

His phone read 5:23 when he caught sight of Pizza Express. _Twenty three minutes must be a new record, _he lamented, gloomily. He dashed up the stone steps, which were flanked by the imposing pillars that gave the building its own charm. The grandeur of the architecture contrasted directly to the modern, simplistic style of the actual restaurant.

Robb shoved open a glass door, grimacing as he nearly hit a waiter in the face. "Stark?" He questioned, shortly, not bothering to serve out his apologies. Manners weren't high on his list of priorities right this second.

"Upstairs." The waiter told him, looking slightly disgruntled. But Robb barely noticed, because he'd already swung around the glass partition, strode across the floor and started to climb the stairs. He'd probably be twenty five minutes late by now. _What an excellent Mother's Day gift, _he sighed, his internal monologue was sarcastic. _It's probably better than the one you were planning on giving her._

He was spotted before he could do any spotting, as soon as he ascended the stairs. He was greeted by enthusiastic cries of: "Robb!" "He's here!" "About time!" and "Could you be _any _later?" Luckily though, no one sounded too annoyed. He panted over, sweeping a chair out next to Sansa with a sheepish grin.

"I made a bad train decision." He admitted, relieved to finally be sat down. It wasn't as if there had been seats on the train. He really did need to make a mental note to book a seat for future journeys; this happened almost every time.

"Well you're here now." Catelyn said, warmly. His lateness would already be dismissed in her thoughts; Robb knew she would only be glad to have all of her family together, or the family as she thought of it. "I rather wish Jeyne had been able to come though, soon she'll be as much part of this family as the rest of you."

Robb gulped at the mention of his fiancée, but quickly proceeded to make noises in agreement. He had told Jeyne about the celebration, he had. What he hadn't done was really asked her to come. Technically, she had already been planning to go out on the Friday. To a party hosted by a friend of a friend of a friend. She'd asked if he'd like her to accompany him, and he'd told her not to trouble herself. Truthfully, he hadn't wanted her too.

He looked forward to seeing his family all together (mostly) like this, since he'd moved out, it was so much easier to forget about qualities they possessed that had used to irk him. Selfishly, he'd wanted to interact with his family without having to constantly make sure Jeyne was involved and happy. And her being rather shy with some of his family, he'd known he would be doing it all night.

Robb drew himself out of his thoughts to focus on the conversation. As expected from his lateness, he was seated at the end of the table, not that he minded very much. Arya grinned at him from the other side, having grabbed a seat on the comfortable sofa bench. "Guess what?" She beamed, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

"What?"

"For part of my history course, we're going to Russia!" She pronounced it proudly.

"No way!" He exclaimed, jealously. "I wanna go to Russia!"

She laughed at him. "Should have taken better A-levels, brother." He grinned at her joke, but the truth of it was inexplicably infuriating. Whatever on earth had possessed him to take Business, ICT, Spanish and Maths, he would never know. And then he'd dropped Maths after AS, because it was horribly hard, and he knew he had no hope for continuing with it. He'd been useless at Spanish from day one, and his final exam had been almost laughable.

Arya, on the other hand, was in the middle of her AS year, studying Maths, History, Spanish and Psychology. And she was actually _good _at Spanish. He remembered a family holiday they'd taken years ago, when he had just finished his A-levels. The whole family had looked to him to order their meals, and he'd been entirely useless. Arya, only year eight at the time, had taken over, and done a much better job of it.

She wasn't rubbing it in though. Sansa turned around to join the conversation, smiling sweetly, as she always did. "How's London?" She asked. On hearing where he was to move to after university, his eldest sister had instantly been jealous, it having always been a dream of hers to live in the city where everything was.

"Wet." He responded. "How's Warwick?" Sansa was a first year studying Psychology at the university there, and was always keen to talk about her friends and teachers. As expected, she began relaying her latest experiences with gusto, and Robb had to simultaneously try to look and interested and try not to laugh at the spectacular eye roll Arya was performing.

Bran was opposite Sansa, talking earnestly to their Mother, adjacent to him. Rickon was showing his father something on his phone, and they were laughing. Ned sat at the head of the table, as always. That was a particular detail Robb remembered from his childhood. But Jon would've been here too, and someone would've been perched on the other end – most likely Arya.

He'd have to call his brother later. Maybe beg a floor space in Jon's house in Newcastle, which he shared with some friends. He could bribe Theon to do his job for him for a few days; it wasn't like Theon would be doing anything else.

They ordered their pizzas soon, and the meal passed in happy conversation, Robb's mostly shared with Sansa and Arya. He'd ordered a Margherita, and it was excellent, a smug contrast to Arya's mushroom and olive choice. Arya pronounced it disgusting almost immediately, and loudly. Robb bit his lip to keep from laughing at the waiter looked affronted. He wondered if Arya would ever be discouraged from choosing something new every time she ate out.

After the meal was over, and Robb felt no guilt over polishing off an entire sundae, they left for home. It was now dark outside, combatted by the flickering street lamps. Stars were scarce, but the moon hung in the sky, illuminating the space around it.

Family members he'd not really spoken to wanted to talk to Robb now. Ned came over, grinning. "Robb!" He laughed. "It seems I've barely seen you all night!" That was fairly true. Robb had been avoiding questions about Jeyne, Theon, his house, his job, his 'hobbies'…

"How's the bar?" His Father asked.

Robb tried not to grimace. "Good, good…" He responded. He could tell Ned was trying his hardest to look genuinely interested. That was nice of him. Trying not to show his disappointment that his oldest son was working in a bar. _It's a temporary arrangement, _Robb told them and himself. Until he found something better. _You've been saying that for almost a year, _a little voice at the back of his head remarked. _Are you _sure _you're going to find something better?_

Robb ignored it. "Yeah… good." He repeated, and cursed himself for not having anything more interesting to say.

"That's great!" Ned told him, with enough excitement to almost make Robb believe it was real. "And Theon?" His Father continued. The whole conversation made Robb want to find a dark corner and sit with his head in his hands. But he answered the questions, trying to make his life sound a hell of a lot more interesting than it was, and making sure to turn the questions on to his Father whenever he had the chance.

When they finally reached the Stark home though (having had a far more successful train journey than Robb had had), his discomfort evaporated. As soon as he was through the door, he was almost disembowelled by a streak of grey fur. "Grey Wind!" He cheered, scratching his wolf behind the ear. "I've missed you man. Have they been feeding you right? They better have."

The wolf nuzzled his neck, seen as Robb had bent down to greet him. He looked fairly content. "Wish you could come to the city with me." Robb told his wolf. "There's lots of rats you could chase, especially the ones Theon brings into his bedroom."

"Robb!" Catelyn scolded.

"Sorry Mum." He said, though he didn't really feel bad. "You could even come to the bar with me." Robb grinned, stroking the wolf's back. "You'd probably be a better server than I am." Grey Wind barked, as if offering his agreement. Robb chuckled, scratching the wolf behind the ears again before he stood up. He vehemently wished his landlord wasn't such an up jumped twat. The old man disallowed pets in the building, and liked to perform spot checks on a regular basis. He was an incredible dick, and both Robb and Theon had had to prevent each other from hitting the man on different occasions.

It was midnight before Robb finally ventured to bed, though he suspected he was significantly less tired than the remainder of his family. Theon was not known for letting anyone sleep until way past four in the morning.

He was sleeping in his old room, surrounded by old band posters and football teams. There was a picture of him and Bran on the desk, taken on Bran's fourth birthday, when Robb was eleven. Bran's hair was still admirably long at that point, and he was clutching a DVD in hand- Harry Potter and something or other. Eleven year old Robb looked largely disgruntled, and was holding his brother at arm's length. Eleven years later, Robb wished he could remember why he'd been so ungracious in the celebrations. He'd stood the picture there because it made him laugh, as both boys looked so different now.

Back in London, he'd only taken one photo with him. To his Mother's horror (well probably, he'd not told her), it was a photo of him and Jon, as chubby cheeked little eight year olds. Robb was grinning his head off in the picture, and arm slung around his brother. As oppose to most other pictures taken of him, Jon looked quite happy too, a proper smile decorating his face. It was a happy scene, and Robb knew another copy of it adorned his Father's desk at work – where Catelyn couldn't disapprove of it.

The rest of the weekend passed swiftly, and Robb managed to avoid most of the uncomfortable questions. Instead, he spent his time with the wolves and his siblings. Sansa enthusiastically told him about her new boyfriend, and Arya about how well her fencing lessons were going. He split most of his time between his sisters, who seemed to have missed him. Privately, Robb knew Arya really missed Jon, and he was just the next best thing. Not that he was complaining. Arya didn't ask him how his engagement was going. He played a few games of chess with Bran, which he lost, and rather a lot of Xbox with Rickon, which he won; he'd spent long periods of his childhood on Fifa.

When he finally arrived back in London, it was to no welcome whatsoever, because he could hear Theon fucking someone in his room. _Home sweet home. _He'd arranged to see Jon next month, after Jon's latest paper had been handed in. His brother was a busy man.

Robb's room was dark and cold, and from the window he could not see the stars. But he was used to that, and fell wearily to sleep, thinking of nothing but last season's finale on Downton Abbey. He wasn't entirely sure what had drawn him to that particular line of thought, but nevertheless, he was wondering what was in store for series five. His Mother would be ready to watch it with him, he was certain, though she'd been thoroughly disheartened when they'd killed off Matthew Crawley.

The following day, he didn't bother to get up as he had done for his family. He only got out of bed for special occasions. It was a while before Theon shoved his door open and threw a shoe at him. Robb groaned as it bounced off the back of his head. "Get out." He grumbled.

"Fun up North?" Theon asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "I fucked the most unbelievable girl last night, you wouldn't believe…" His face held a dreamy expression.

"That's very nice." Robb cut him off. He had no desire to hear the details of Theon's exploits. "Now leave me alone, I plan to sleep for another four hours yet."

"It's already three, if you do that, you'll be late for work." Theon said, nonchalantly.

Robb groaned again, even louder. "_Three?" _He looked at his friend, who patted him on the back sarcastically. "Fuck off." Robb said, and shoved Theon away. He pulled himself out of bed very slowly, trying not to be in such a foul mood.

"Make me breakfast." Robb commanded, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm not your servant." Theon said, peevishly.

Robb rolled his eyes. "Please." He replied, finally. Theon went with an exaggerated sigh, muttering loudly about 'spoiled brats'. Robb half-grinned. His friend may claim to have 'fucked half the girls in Camden', but that didn't stop him from making toast for Robb.

He showered quickly, after realising that Theon and co. had used up the majority of the hot water. They'd probably fucked some more in the shower whilst Robb was still asleep. Why anyone would want to, he couldn't imagine. Their shower was small and claustrophobic, with a weak flow and rusting metal. They would've been better doing it on the counter.

He went off to work three and a half hours later, wearing the pair of jeans his Mother had washed for him and a navy t-shirt that didn't clash too badly with his hair. It was hard to dress acceptably when bright red was a forced part of the colour scheme. Deceivingly, his coat and shoes were of fair expense, but only because they'd been a gift from his parents. It would be a blatant lie if he told anyone he could afford that sort of thing, but he had no trouble with giving off the impression.

"What's up?" He called, as he slid behind the bar. "Have I been missed?"

"No." Said Jon Umber, the owner, but he was grinning. "Get your ass to work Stark; you've had your holiday." He laughed, throwing Robb a bottle as he turned away. Robb wrenched open the beer with his teeth, but only took one sip before putting it down. There were people coming in.

"What can I get you?" He asked, as the party approached the counter. He was concentrating on grabbing glasses from the cupboard behind him, and didn't look around at first.

"Gin and tonic, please." It was a girl's voice, confident and sing song. A voice he could've sworn he'd heard recently. Robb span around, glasses in hand, to see if he was just imagining things.

He wasn't. He'd only met her briefly, and she'd been absolutely soaked from the rain, as had he. But he recognised her, and her eyebrows had risen, indicating she'd also recognised him. _She looks much better with dry hair_, was the only thought he could muster.

She leaned across the counter with a smile. "Hello." Her tone was inviting. "I do believe we've met before."


End file.
